♖ 1st Weekly
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Part One
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A man sits upon a log, a large book in his hands. It's large, about the size of his torso. Aside from a campfire, there is nothing else around him. He rips a page out of the book and leans forward, holding it to the campfire in front of him, the only source of light in the darkness. As the page catches fire, the flames form a scene: the man from before, standing on an orangey terrain that slopes slightly uphill. In his arms is something brown, and on his back is a grey travel backpack. He holds a long stick.

Next, the man is seen sitting and kneeling in front of various wise-looking elders. The first is a man with a long grey beard and what looks to be a halo hovering above his head. The second is a man in a white turban and white pants, sitting on a rock. The third one is an old, hunched woman with white hair curled up in a bun, wearing a long grey dress. Every word they say seems to be pulled in and absorbed into the book.

Then, the man is once again seen flipping through it, a smile on his face as he kneels. He pulls the book up with all his energy. As the scenes change, the book he carries on his bag weighs him down more and more, as he goes from a slow walk, to crawling on all fours, and finally keeled over on the floor. Suddenly, his monochrome surroundings brighten to a light yellow, and we see him kneeling before the book, eyes closed and hands resting on his lap.

Returning to the very start, we see the man feed more and more pages to the campfire that lights up the small area with a resigned look on his face. Finally, when the campfire is no more than a tower of word-filled smoke, the now happy and yellow man flies away on wings made of the book's covers, away from the grey and white landscape below.

Part Two
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Note: I chose to do fanfiction for this one!

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Part Three
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Part Four
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♖ 5th of July - Main Cabin Daily
258 words

Most say that the box-of-markers is one of the less strange ingredients on the list of Forbidden Things to Turn Into a Smoothie. And while that might be true, that doesn't make it any less forbidden. After all, it's literally made of a box of markers, plastic and ink and all. The Box of Markers Smoothie is a dangerous thing, composed of many weird ingredients. And yet, it has a uniquely wonderful taste to it, unlike many other Smoothie-of-Forbidden-Things. While the main attraction in terms of taste is the thick, sweet ink that leaves a fizzy yet slightly sour aftertaste, the plastic of the box and the markers give a certain shiny aspect to the Smoothie that wouldn't be there otherwise. It tastes smooth and glaze-like, and contains crispy, chunky pieces of plastic that one can savour while drinking the smoothie.

One of the things that makes the Box of Markers Smoothie stand out is the impression the taste leaves on your brain and taste buds. For some unknown reason, people report tasting something like pure, melty art and creativity in the smoothie. All of them have struggled to describe it properly, but most have agreed that it tastes of all the things the markers have and could have created and drawn, with a nice, caramel-sweet tinge of human passion.

Unfortunately, side-effects of consuming the Box of Markers Smoothie include: rainbow saliva, ink stains on your tongue, and suspiciously-coloured mucus. Some have even reported sweating liquid plastic that eventually hardened into a thin shell over the sweaty area.

♖ Level 2 Task 1/3
228 words

What is one thing you wish you could have? Write 200 words about what it would be like to have it and what you would do once you did.

One thing I desperately wish I could have is a drawing tablet, complete with a pen and stuff. As someone who mainly uses a laptop to draw, using a mouse or touchpad gets really tiring, especially for more complex pieces. A drawing tablet would not only be easier on my hand, but also let me have pen pressure and just… draw more comfortably.

I think it would be very good for my art skills to finally be able to try out a drawing tablet - I would either love it and use it to learn how to draw better and faster with new tools, or I'd maybe decide that I don't vibe with drawing tablets and then focus on developing my traditional art or finding out how to draw more comfortably with my previous equipment. Either way, I get to improve my art.

Once I have it, I'd probably spend the next few days going absolutely wild on it. Experimenting with all the features, drawing a bunch of stuff, just generally messing around with it, and et cetera. Considering my current track record of reactions to getting new stuff (especially art stuff), I'd most likely also forget to do chores (or literally anything else than doesn't involve the drawing tablet). Then the initial awe would fade after a little while, and I'd calm down and use it less obsessively.

♖ Level 2 Task 2/3
216 words

Ask for a random noun in the Main Cabin and write 200 words about it.

Noun: Blanket, tranquility, castle, cephalopod (A lot of people gave me nouns, and uh… I couldn't pick, so I used all of them if that's okay. It's still mainly about blankets though!)

The Blanket of the Gods is a mythical item, sought after by heroes looking for their next quest. It was said to be able to shrink to the size of the smallest ant, and could grow big enough to cover the planet itself. Many abilities were attributed to it - some said it brought good luck and tranquility, while others said it was made of an unbreakable fabric that could withstand the wrath of the strongest deities. People described it as thick, and crafted of a material that seemed like wool but was far too strong to be it.

Pure white and powered by comfort and the love of the godly children that used it, the Blanket is said to reside in a grand castle that lies atop a floating cephalopod made of pure gold. The cephalopod would travel through the clouds, forever changing its form. Sometimes it takes the form of a squid, with a singular eye that stared down from above. Other times, it's a nautilus, with a round shell that shines like rainbows, guarding the precious treasure it holds within its castle-crown. Legend says that only someone who owned the Blanket as a child will be able to reach it, but so far not even the godly children have been able to claim it.

♖ Level 2 Task 3/3
228 words

Pick any cabin and ask for a prompt–then write at least 200 words using the prompt you were given.

Prompt: “You descend the staircase, but it never seems to end.”

Every night, I dream of stairs. A staircase, lying behind a locked door, spiralling down, down, down into the darkness. In the dreams, I stand in front of the door guarding it. I reach out my hand as if about to twist the knob, and just… pass through. Like a wisp or a burst of air, I push through the dense wood, and suddenly I'm on the other side. The knob is untouched, and so am I.

Like a ghost, I drift down the staircase. My feet don't touch the floor. Down I go, descending deeper, and deeper, and deeper. Sometimes, I try counting the stairs as I descend into the darkness. I never make it past a hundred. The last dream, the words one hundred and one had been on the very tip of my tongue. But my mind is untethered to my body, and my body does not house my soul quite the way it should. Nothing comes out. The words fade.

Pictures of more staircases line the walls. Thousands of them, identical in nature except for the plaques. There's writing on them, but like all things in these dreams they're ever so slightly smudged, illegible. Just beyond understanding. I caress the plaques longingly. It feels as if I should know what they're for, what they mean.

I do, I realise. They're for-
The dream ends.

Brighid wakes up one day, and the world is made of smoke. It is the sky up above, it is the fog that should be creeping through the streets, and it is the air itself. At this moment, she knows: the day her town of oddball humans and supernatural beings would be found had come. The people from the city were bursting into their territory, with their large machines and strange weapons. She could hear them now, among the cries of the citizens. Vampires, fae, ghosts, humans, and more rush past her window, shouting for everyone to evacuate.

“You!” says an elderly brownie, skidding to a stop. “What are you doing, sitting around like that? Get your friends, dear, and go!”
“I- y-yes, of course,” Brighid stammers. She's never seen the old tailor so frantic. Tumbling out of bed, the banshee rushes outside, running through the streets. Here, she opens her mouth and begins to wail. A piercing, unearthly sound that her friends know, and recognise, and will use to find her.
Now, all she can do is hope for the best.

(Or she'll try. She's never been an optimist.)

That morning, Esther woke up feeling more refreshed than she'd ever felt before. Today was the big day, when she and her friend Bria would make their debut as new heroes in Sipysia City. Practically throwing herself out of bed, she stood up and looked out of the window at the view. That's what they'd be protecting today.
Esther grinned, heart racing and an excited flush on her pale cheeks. This was it. She was so ready.
But first- she had to actually get ready for the day.

Reluctantly making her way over to the kitchen, she grabbed a slice of slightly stale bread and shoved it in her mouth. Darting over to the counter, Esther busied herself with making tea. It was a familiar, comforting routine - heat up some water in the kettle, prepare the tea in her favourite mug, add the hot water, and finally a small teaspoon of sugar before downing it all in one gulp.

Swallowing the scalding tea, she ran through mental list of what she should do next. Breakfast was done, the laundry could be folded some other time, and she didn't have that many dirty clothes that needed washing. Only a few piles here and there. So that left… showering.

Glancing towards the bathroom door, Esther frowned. She turned and looked at the clock on the wall. She only had a few minutes before her first day would start, and showering always took a long time… she sighed. Hurrying over to the bathroom, Esther settled for squeezing toothpaste onto her toothbrush with a little more force than necessary. The seconds ticked by as she brushed her teeth, and soon enough she was done, setting the now-washed toothbrush on the sink.

She gave herself a final look over in the bathroom mirror. A white shirt with an old tea stain, a face that clearly hadn't been cleaned in a while, and green hair that was slowly being overtaken by dark roots…
“Good enough.” Esther shrugged, and turned away.

.

“Hey,” Esther said later, sitting comfortably in her room. “You ready, ‘Miss Might’?”
From the other end of the line, Bria's earpiece crackled. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

Slowly falling into a crouch at the very edge of a tall building a few blocks away from Esther's house stood Bria, fully dressed in her new superhero gear. In all her padded-armour and cape-wearing glory, she found a smile growing on her face, stretching from ear to ear.

“I can't believe we're actually doing this,” she said breathlessly.
Esther laughed. “This is the best dare we've ever gotten.”
Nodding despite knowing that that her friend, and hero partner couldn't see it, Bria returned her focus to the city. Sipysia wasn't the most crime-filled place, but it still had its fair share of villains and criminals, as well as two other heroes. Strangely enough, today the whole place was… silent.

“Esther?” she mumbled, flying over to a smaller building. “Have you seen the other heroes yet?”
“No,” said Esther, narrowing her eyes. “I can't find them anywhere, actually. And I have cameras all over the city,”
Eyeing the bank a few streets away, Bria wandered closer. Something strange was going on. The bank's windows kept flashing white. “They're supposed to be patrolling right now, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“Could you hold that thought?” said Bria suddenly. She was right next to the bank now, atop a small apartment building. “I think something just exploded in the bank on Warbler Street,”

And then she was jumping, flying as the wind whipped through her brown curls and feeling them bounce as she landed. She kicked the doors open. There was a gasp, a moment of tense silence, and then even more chaos erupted. Henchmen ran towards her immediately, weapons drawn. The bound staff of the bank cried out behind their gags, some even shuffling towards her. And most obviously, someone jumped down from the second story holding a bag of money.

“Stop right there!” she yelled, rushing towards them. Too late - he landed smoothly on a henchman's shield, sliding down to the ground and bolting immediately for a side exits.

.

Kei didn't know how the new hero had found them so fast. This was the least-robbed bank in Sipysia! Yet somehow she'd found him, and now he was running away faster than he'd ever run before.

“Come on, faster!” he yelled behind him at his right hand man, who was still carrying his shield in one hand and another bag of loot in the other. “Just ditch the shield!”
“But- I don't think I-” his companion sputtered, following him out the side door into the employee's parking lot.
Kei groaned and glanced backward to see that the new hero was indeed closing in on them. “Just do it, Knighthand!”
“My grandmother gave it to me,” Knighthand lamented, taking the lead now that he'd sent the shield flying at their pursuer.

Running ahead, Kei jumped in the passenger seat of their getaway car, wincing as Knighthand stuffed himself inside, full-body metal armour and all. Kicking the gas pedal, the two sped off with their money in tow, bursting through the gates and onto the street outside with the new hero on their tails, the sound of pavement cracking under her feet as she ran punctuating their racing hearts. She really was infuriatingly competent.

“Who are you supposed to be?” yelled Kei, leaning out of the windows to get a better look at her.
She rolled her eyes. “None of your business. What are you, some kind of medieval fantasy Ren Fair villain?”
“My robbery isn't any of your business either,” he sneered, ducking back inside and ignoring the comment on their villain theme and the frustration streaming from the hero's mouth. Glancing towards the driver's seat, back to the new hero, and back again with calculating eyes, Kei frowned. “Go faster,” he ordered. “She's catching up.”

“I'm trying!” said Knighthand, eyes dead set on the road and hands gripping the wheel so tightly it left indents.
“Try harder!” Kei said, and grabbed the wheel himself. Knighthand gasped, shoving his hands off it in protest, moving so abruptly that the car swerved with a loud screech of tires-
And crashed right into a flower shop.

Knighthand sighed tiredly, flicking away a stray petal. “Worst first robbery ever.”

.

Ten minutes later, the two were in jail, and Bria stood proudly in front of their cells.
She grinned smugly at Lord Dolorous. “By the way,” she said. “Since you asked earlier, you can call me Miss Might.”
And with that, she walked away, trying to shake off thoughts of the missing heroes.

As a big fan of showing both character and plot development through the clothes that the characters wear, I don't think nearly enough Animator vs Animation or Animation vs Minecraft fans design the sticks with circumstances and character development in mind. But that's honestly fine - it's their designs, and no one is obligated to follow a certain rule because guess what? These sticks are literally that. Stick figures. Everyone can and is allowed to do whatever they want when drawing them in fan art. I've seen some people draw them as sticks with clothes and vaguely outlined hair the same colour as their body. I've seen others draw the sticks with fur, or as completely normal humans. Since the base designs of the sticks are so minimal, you can basically do anything and everything with them.

So no, I will not be talking about why I disagree with some people's designs for them. Instead, I'll be talking about what I'd like to do with them, and my ideas regarding my designs for them, all while incorporating that ‘plot/character progression through design’ that I love so much. Fair warning, I usually imagine them as regular stick-people, just like their canon appearance. The main difference is that they'd be a little more 3D, with slightly more humanoid body structures and such. No hair, no pink skin, nada. Though I might still talk about design choices I'd make if I was designing a human-looking version of the sticks every now and then.

First off, I'd make sure that the characters have different designs between Animator vs Animation and Animation vs Minecraft, despite AvM being a spin-off of the first series. The two series have different focuses, and occur at different points of the general Alan Becker/Animation vs series. AvA focuses more on the hollowheads and Second as the main character, as well as the wider stick-universe. And although Second is still somewhat the main character in it, AvM focuses more on the colour gang as a group, the sticks as individuals, and them in Minecraft. I would show these differences between AvM and AvA by having them all have different designs between them.

As for the timeline, I'd place the original AvM as happening after AvA 4, while AvM Shorts/current AvM takes place after AvA 5/AvA Shorts. Anything from AvA Season 2 and beyond happens after AvM S3. We've yet to see what AvM S4 will bring, so I'll leave the one episode we have from that out for now. Meanwhile, all the other Animation vs videos (Animation vs League of Legends, Animation vs Arcade Games, etc) to happen either during AvM S2 or post-s3.

Now that we're done laying down all the foundations, I get to finally talk about my design ideas! First off, I see any hollowheads as wearing very simple clothing in their first appearances/debuts. Just plain shirts and such. Victim would appear wearing something like a ragged, oversized t-shirt, while Chosen would appear with a dark turtleneck, Dark with a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and Second with a regular t-shirt.

The reason I say that the Hollowheads would have really plain clothes at first is because they’re… well, the hollowheads. Hand-drawn by Alan, with various initial purposes, but each of them slowly growing to defy them over time. When they’re first drawn, they’ve basically just been born, with only their codes and their names to themselves. As time progresses, they begin to figure themselves, their personalities, and their identities out. Their outfits become more complex and personal as a result. Like I said before, their clothing reflects their character progression. In this case, It reflects their personal identities, growing from a victim, a challenge, a tool, and a simple project/subject/animation to their own people.

Fitting for a businessman, Victim shows up 16 years later in a tidy, clean business suit, a far cry from the ragged t-shirt they were drawn in. Chosen goes from a turtleneck to a trench coat with a similar silhouette to Dark’s big jacket/coat. As Chosen begins to have doubts and joins the good side, the style of trench coat possibly changes, distancing his silhouette from Dark’s to show their relationship worsening. Dark himself slowly sheds or gets deprived of his personal accessories/clothing pieces during The Showdown, leaving him in something very similar to his debut outfit by the end, showing how he’s returned to his coded roots as Chosen’s enemy.

Second goes through a lot of outfit changes over the course of the series. He starts out in a simple t-shirt, and wears it until he meets the rest of the colour gang, who most likely bestow upon him a matching jacket. He wears it as they all wreak havoc on the Animator’s computer, and continues wearing it when they’re deleted, zipping it up as if to remember them more and cement himself as one of them.

It becomes his only source of comfort as he fights Alan, and is the source of the Animator’s horror as he really shows why his name is The Second Coming. Zipped up, the jacket looks eerily like The Chosen One’s turtleneck, and literally becomes it when Second starts glitching. Then, Second’s AvA outfit journey (ha) finally ends at the very ending of Animator vs Animation 4, when everything is all and well between the sticks and the Animator. Now, his battered jacket and shirt is a short-sleeved hoodie top that looks like the second coming of his colour gang jacket. On top of that, he wears an artist’s glove to show his new role as an animator and Alan’s animating partner.

This is definitely not the end of Second’s design changed over time, but true to the spirit of AvM, I’ll speak about the colour gang and their designs more generally at first and then get into them individually. For the original Animation vs Minecraft video, I imagine them to be in the same outfits as they were AvA 4 and 5, though over the course of the video they don and take off various aspects of it to become more unique. However, the changes in design aren’t that significant, and it’s only when the AvM shorts begin that they get proper new outfits. AvM shorts is also where we’ll be getting into the other characters and their designs (mainly Purple and King, who all change clothing too).

Continuing on to AvM Shorts, we open with The Rediscovery, where the colour gang (Second and the Fighting Stick Figures Red, Green, Blue, and Yellow) find out that Minecraft is still on their computer, and proceed to spend the rest of the season trying out many of the game's features. Halfway through, they discover that nether portals can lead to other places and even other desktops. Green and Blue go through a portal together and land in Purple's mac, while Second, Red, and Yellow search for them. The main theme in season 1 is exploration, and that's what I intend to incorporate into their designs.

The FSF were introduced as the stick characters of a stick-fighting flash animation website. This type of site and animation used to be much more popular, and the sticks themselves are based on that. Although AvA 5 gives them a little more personality, there weren't many differences between them during their first appearance. Aside from colour, none of their traits popped out to me much, and we could only see them acting independently when they were playing with Alan's computer with Second after getting out of their site. I plan to show this by dressing them all incredibly similarly, with the matching jackets I mentioned they gave to Second earlier, with the only variation being how they zip their jackets up.

In AvM season 1, the fighting sticks get to explore their fashion sense much more than before, the same way they're exploring Minecraft. They're starting to wear different things now, and as the AvM series progresses I want to showcase them and their clothing becoming more and more different to reflect them finding their own hobbies and Minecraft niches, while also tying them back to each other in small ways, like with clips or bracelets or pins.

♖ Level 3 Task 3/3
528 words

Set a stopwatch and hold your breath until you can't. Take that number and multiply it by 10. Write that many words!

Time: 52 seconds

Note: Was also written for cabin wars, but I got carried away and continued it after the word count was met haha

(Gareth muses on some of the mentors he's had, a lifetime after he had them.)

Sir Kay was unyielding, and everyone knew that fact. He was stubborn as a mule and foul-mouthed, always scowling. And he was mean. But Gareth thinks he knew his uncle better than that. Kay was never a stubborn wall of rock that would never budge. He was a river of magma, spewing fire, adaptable but just as strong, doing its job for the environment. He cared for every single one of the servants in the castle, even if he didn't show it much. His blood ran hot with magic, magic that he kept hidden for only the most dire of situations. He could hold his breath for nine days and nine nights, but could never hold himself back (because loyalty was his life and his purpose, and it would stay so until the end). Gareth knew him as sharp-eyed, and strong, and someone who made sure every kitchen boy and kitchen girl was taken care of, who was quick and who was smart, who ran the kingdom behind the scenes because no one else could or would do it.

Sir Lancelot was strange. He was the best knight in the world. He was Gawain's best friend. But above all, he was Gareth's knight, the man he squired for (the man he died to). He had taught him that crying wasn't a thing to be ashamed of, that every knight felt and could feel and should feel, because the ones that didn't were torn apart by war, left an empty husk of a body. Lancelot was strong, but he was gentle too, and patient. If Gareth had trouble with something, he'd wait, and he'd coax him through the motions again and again until he'd mastered it. Lancelot was a serene river, an almost-still lake or ocean, that lapped against his ankles and washed over him. It was like learning to swim, except the water itself was helping him, pulling and pushing with as he learned to work with it. But all bodies of water hide things in their depths, like waves so big they knocked you down and whirlpools that sucked you in deeper and deeper. Lancelot was like that, in a sense. He held back until it all came tumbling out, clutched his secrets to his chest until the tide pushed them into the open and everything fell to chaos.

Then, there were the Orkneys.
(Gareth thinks about his brothers, a lifetime after they were family.)

Gawain is brilliant. That's all Gareth can say about him - a brilliant man and a brilliant son and brother and knight. And maybe he didn't realise it, but sometimes his brilliance was too bright, like burning sun rays, like a blinding light so bright that he outshone all of them, and subsequently cast them all in his shadow. He was the standard they were meant to live up to. But bless him, Gareth could tell that he tried. He tried so hard for all of them. Brought them to Camelot, practically raised them, kept them safe and taught them about the world. Gareth is grateful for that.

♖ 2nd Weekly
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Part One
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My Concepts:
Chosen Concept:

My Workshop (sharing forum link):

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Part Two
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Writing in a Child's Point of View (by stvrriii)

The elder monks always tell him that patience is a virtue. Lear doesn't know what that means, but he does know that there's an ugly, hot feeling in his belly that won't go away.
“Look, buddy,” says the person in front of him, swearing quietly in the way that grown-ups do when they think he can't hear. “I'm sorry, okay? But I left, and that's that. I'm doing my own thing now.”
“You don't get it it!”
“I do, I swear-” they say, hands raising to calm him. and all he really wants is to smack them away and let out the tight thing in his chest.
“No you don't!” Lear says, and stamps his foot on the ground. The rocks hurt him, but his chest and head hurt more. Why won't they just listen? "I don't want you to come back! I want to know why you look exactly like my dad,

Part Three
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♖ 12th of July - Main Cabin Daily
190 words

Genre: Romance

You come to the castle dreaming of becoming a knight. At the gates, you're greeted by a tall man with a deep scowl, who levels you with a judging stare.
“A knight?” he says, scoffing. “You want to join that bunch of fools? They'd eat you alive. Now come with me - I have far more important work for you,”
He beckons you into the castle.

Inside the main hall, hundreds of people mill about. Nobles, knights, even the King's own family. Couples dance together across the room, young nobles enjoying their courtships with roses and food and performances from the best bards this place has to offer. But the man doesn't stop here. No, he leads you through a small side door, past a maze of cellars, and into the centre of a large, bustling kitchen.
Immediately, everyone crowds around you, asking questions and saying hello and chattering away. That is, until one of the kitchen boys steps forward, and they all fall into silence.

“Welcome to the Camelot Kitchens,” he grins gleefully. “Let's get cooking up some courtly love for the King, Queen, and their best knight, shall we?”

♖ 13th of July - Main Cabin Daily
423 words

Flowers: amaranth (immortality), forget-me-not (love in absence), oleander (beware)

The gravestones in front of him are plain, and unadorned. They are also all that's left of Sammy Emily's family.
His father, his mother, and his sister, all three lying six feet under. Blinking back tears, he caresses his sister's gravestone.
“Hey, Charlie,” says Sammy, gently placing down flowers. Forget-me-nots, a brilliant blue as bright as she had been in life. “It's been such a long time, hasn't it?”

He pauses, staring blankly at her grave. Lost in thought. “…It was our birthday, yesterday. I think I'm starting to feel the age, honestly - I have no idea how Dad made being almost 60 look so easy.” Sammy lets out a low laugh, shaking his head.
“Did you know I'm supposed to be the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment, now?” he says. “They just- they just showed up on my doorstep last month, handed me the papers, told me- ‘your father who you haven’t seen in decades is dead and as the last living heir to the company, it's yours' and- and left.”

He sighs and stands up. “I should be going now,” he says, offering one last smile to Charlie's grave before turning on his heel and making his way through the cemetery. Not far from the Emily graves are another set of tombstones, all five of them lined up neatly. Sammy stops. He has a feeling they're all empty. He squints, narrows his eyes, and walks over. The centre grave is an explosion of plants, amaranths and oleanders sprouting on every inch of it, and even more slowly snaking over to the other graves. They almost completely hide the letters etched onto the centre stone, but Sammy knows what it says.

William Afton. The man whose grave he'd cleaned of flowers just a week ago. And the week before that. And the week before that week. Yet, no matter how many times he cleans them, the flowers keep coming back.

Just like the ones that kept growing around the new Fazbear Entertainment project building site, he notices while on the drive back home. Sammy exhales, gripping the steering wheel tightly and staring straight ahead.
“Not to worry,” he says to himself, a smile growing on his face. “Soon, it'll be like the Afton incidents never happened,”
Fazbear Entertainment is his father's legacy. It's his, now. And he's going to fix it and make everything right again, in any way he can. He will not let it die.

He plucks off the stray flower clinging to his jacket. The oleander falls to the ground.

♖ 3rd Weekly
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Part One
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Characters:
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Beginning:
We begin the story with two people conversing at a park: our main characters, Esther and Owen. They talk about the recent super-crime wave that's been happening in their city, and as the conversation goes on we get a glimpse of their personalities and some exposition regarding the world and setting. We find out that the two have just met, and that Esther is waiting for some friends there while Owen is there as a dog walker walking some dogs! Once Esther's friends arrive, she waves goodbye to Owen, who is joined by a worker walking out of a nearby bookstore (this part serves to introduce our secondary characters, aka Owen and Esther's respective best friends).

The beginning of the story ends with Esther and their friends sitting together at a park bench. They watch the news together on Esther's friend Bria's phone, where they see that some new villains have emerged and are wreaking chaos. Isabel (their other friend and a minor/supporting character) makes a comment and challenges them (Esther and Bria) to become heroes themselves. Esther immediately agrees.

Middle:
It opens with Esther and Bria preparing to make their debut as heroes. They go out, stop a minor villain from robbing a bank, and everything seems to go well. The days go by, and eventually they get used to the hero thing. We see Esther talking about how much easier this is than she thought it would be, and saying they'd easily win the bet with Isabel.

In the middle of the conversation, they spot a villain, and we find out that… the new villains from before have been quietly and sneakily moving from spot to spot around the city dong petty crime and generally being, well, villains. Esther and Bria haven't been able to catch them. A few more hints are dropped here and there. It's gradually made more clear and obvious that something's wrong and the city's more experienced heroes haven't been seen in a while and may be missing. The new villain group is looking more and more suspicious. A weird civilian they keep seeing who seems to have lots of jobs keeps making weird remarks.

Cut to Owen's point of view, and we find out that he

For the record, Orange would like to state that they had no idea what the Outernet was. He'd been there of course, when they'd all followed The Chosen One inside the white glowing portal after the ViraBot attack on the Animator's computer. But he'd only ever been on the outskirts of the area, generally staying there near the big lake while The Dark Lord attacked them. They hadn't even noticed the large city a few kilometres away, too busy with everything that was going on then. So no, he did not in fact know anything about the Outernet, and was understandably baffled when their friends had brought it up once.

“You've never been… you don't know what Stick City is?” their friends had asked them. orange had shrugged. He knew what a city was - of course he did. But things like cities had always been an Outside thing that existed in the Animator's world, or a game thing that was created to be a part of a game. There were no cities on desktops, especially not one full of other sticks.

Their friends started looking at each other, sending unspoken messages and communicating only through their eyes. Red and Yellow were both curious, while Green and Blue looked confused and Purple just seemed incredibly weirded out. Orange felt confused too, a thousand thoughts of why and what whirling around their head. What was Stick City? Why did everyone seem to know it while they didn't?

“Well, you've clearly never been there,” said Yellow, scrunching up his eyebrows. “And this desktop is fairly isolated. We've never talked about it with you either, but that's because we assumed you already knew. Have you never tried going to the Outernet?”
“What?” asked Orange, at this point desperate for any scrap of information that would clear up all the vagueness. “I don't even know what that is! I just found it it exists,”
At this, Red perked up. “We went there, remember? With the Chosen One stick and Alan? And The Dark Lord.”
“The Dark Lord- the cyber criminal?” Purple sputtered, concern flashing across their face. “He- you- how are you all alive?”

Everyone besides Purple stiffened. It was like someone had frozen the air around them, and it was one slippery slope to saying the wrong thing and triggering all the wrong memories. The silence was smothering. At last, a look of horror dawned on Purple's face.
“No,” Purple murmured. “It can't be,”
The ice shattered. All at once, there was movement again, and sound, and Orange shook himself out of the flashes of that day with the Dark Lord.

“We're getting off track,” said Green, placing a shaky hand on Purple's catatonic shoulders. “Orange here hasn't been to Stick City, ever! Who else thinks it's about time we fix that?”
“We should take you to the park! Or the mall!” said Red, with a little too much relief. Beside him, Blue nodded thoughtfully, his hand squeezed tight in Yellow's own.
“That sounds fun!” Orange smiled, pushing the bad memories away with force. “But… is it safe?”
Blue hummed, munching on a netherwart with the hand that wasn't holding Yellow's. “Of course.”

“Well, then let's go!” Red whooped, doing a little dance in place with Reuben the pig. His yellow bandanna seemed to wave too, almost as if even his clothes were excited.

♖ Example of Writing - Main Cabin Daily

Second woke up to the sound of Dark slamming the door open and a realisation: It was the-
“First day of school!” cackled his older brother, wearing a downright evil smile. “No more sleeping in!”
“No…”
“Yes!” cheered Dark, wrenching Second out of his bed. “Get up, Cho says we’re leaving in ten.”

Immediately, Second bolted upright, kicking away his tangled cocoon of blankets. Panic shot through his veins. He glanced at the clock with a sinking feeling in his chest. 7:15. Exactly fifteen minutes before the school day would start.
“What?!” he cried, and proceeded to trip over a pillow with a squawk. “Ow. Why didn’t you wake me up?!”
Dark shrugged, making his way to the door. “We tried, but…”
“But wha- wait, no! Don’t leave- get back here- Dark! I can’t pack all my school stuff in- Dark!”

Second groaned, looking desperately from the now empty doorway and the ever-ticking clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Grabbing his pillows and blankets off of the floor, he allowed himself exactly one second of soft bliss by burying his face in them, before reluctantly dumping them on the bed. Trudging over to his wardrobe, he pulled out a bright orange hoodie with white sleeves and hastily slipped it over his head. Second gave himself one last look.

Okay, this just wouldn’t do it. It needed something… more. Frowning at the various bits and pieces on his desk, Second stiffened as a wide smile began to grow on his face. Grabbing a hair pin, some nail polish he’d gotten a while ago, and a brush, he let instinct take over. The brush swept softly over the black pin, coating it a brilliant green. The familiar motions guided him through it, each hair pin gaining more and more colour. In the end, they were all green, though some had black and red stripes.

Carefully, he set the nail polish brushes down, grinning at his handiwork. Now this was much better, Second thought as he took the dry ones and pinned back his ginger hair.

With only a few minutes left, Second scrambled to his bag, haphazardly throwing notebooks, stationery, and textbooks inside. Taking the ones that had missed and stuffing them in, he practically jumped out, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud clang.

“There you are,” said his oldest brother, leaning against the door out of the apartment. Second wasn’t sure how many identical black turtlenecks Chosen owned, but it had to be at least a dozen. He also wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. At least his brother was wearing something else over it for once though - a dark jacket lined with red that they’d given him for his birthday a few months ago.

“Come on, we’ll be late!” said Chosen, pulling him and Dark out of the way and locking the door. Leading them down the stairs, it wasn’t long before the three siblings stood in the parking lot, right in front of a car that had definitely seen better days. And also definitely had some illegal modifications added to it.

Second jumped in the back seat, shuffling along and shifting until he found a comfortable position. Dark hopped in the front passenger seat, while Chosen took up the wheel, despite the fact that they weren't sure their eldest could be trusted with driving either.
“What about breakfast?” he asked as Chosen started the car.
“In the container on your right. Just eat it,”
He glanced beside him, raising his eyebrows at the sandwich lying in the red container lying innocently beside him. Only it wasn’t innocent, because that was one of Dark’s containers, and they both knew Dark had a habit of storing questionable things. It wasn’t covered in blood, but…

“Dark, is this safe?” he asked, poking at it. From the front, Dark turned around, wild red hair fanning out behind him and blocking the view to the road (much to Chosen’s irritation). Upon seeing the sandwich, his eyes lit up dangerously.
“Oh, sure!” he said, with a smile that meant it was most certainly not safe.
His stomach rumbled angrily. Second glanced between the sandwich and Dark’s manic expression, an invisible war waging itself in his mind.
His stomach won. Hopefully whatever horrible thing the sandwich had absorbed from his brother’s container of evil wasn’t too bad.

Second bit into the sandwich, letting himself taste every bit of bread and jam in it. Huh. That actually tasted pretty good. Munching on it some more, his breakfast began to disappear down his throat, until the time had flown, his hands were empty, and Chosen had pulled up in front of Stick City High School.

Now much more energised after that and the cup of coffee he’d stolen from one of his brothers, Second hopped out of the car, waving a quick goodbye to Dark and Chosen.

♜ 1st of November - Main Cabin Daily
__ words

Hey! The November session is finally here and I can't wait to get writing! But before that I need to do an introduction and I really want to do a 1000-word intro (which I've never managed before) so here we go! Starting off with the basics: I go by Lax (and sometimes Laxy. I like both and they're only one letter different so…), this is my tenth session in SWC, and I am so incredibly hyped for this session.

(tba)